


Enough

by lonelyhourglass47



Category: CrankGameplays - Fandom, Video Blogging RPF, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Bulimia, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:13:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25741135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lonelyhourglass47/pseuds/lonelyhourglass47
Summary: "He wasn’t sure why he wanted to do it then; the last time he had an opportunity it didn’t seem worth it. But now he didn’t really care about the consequences.Sure, he had been lonely recently, but he didn’t want to complain. He chose not to bring it up. He started to think he should have said something though when the appeal of self-harm came back and Mark was too busy to come distract him from it."What happened in Ethan’s life during the year I casually skipped over towards the end of my fic “No Tomorrow (Stay With Me)”?Find out in this bonus fic!
Relationships: Mark Fischbach/Ethan Nestor
Comments: 14
Kudos: 76





	1. Cut Me Deep

**Author's Note:**

> So, I was thinking about how the jump from chapter 13 to chapter 14 in my fic “No Tomorrow” leaves out an entire year. I enjoyed writing No Tomorrow so much that I decided I wanted to write a smaller fic that takes place during the year I skipped in the story. So here it is!

It had been a month since the bonfire, and a month since Ethan had seen his friends. He knew he still had Mark, but Mark had been so busy lately with YouTube. Ethan didn’t want to complain about the loneliness sinking in, so he kept his mouth shut.

He started to think he should have said something though when the appeal of self-harm came back and Mark was too busy recording to come distract him from it.

He wasn’t sure why he wanted to do it then; the last time he had an opportunity it didn’t seem worth it. But now he didn’t really care about having the scars for weeks afterward, or his arms stinging for the next couple days as the water would beat down on the cuts when he was in the shower. He quietly walked upstairs to make sure Mark was busy in his recording studio before heading back down and finding the small box he had hidden in the back of one of the kitchen cabinets. Inside was a decent-sized shard of glass, a piece of the glass he had accidentally broken a while ago. Even though he had no desire to self-harm then, he couldn’t help but keep it since a little part of him was still curious. Curious about what it would feel like to self-harm with broken glass.

In hindsight, he really shouldn’t have kept that glass shard. In hindsight, he should have just interrupted Mark so he could make sure Ethan didn’t hurt himself. In hindsight, he never should have self-harmed that first time he did all those months ago.

As he dragged the glass across his skin, he tried not to think about how deep he was cutting. Avoided the fact that the scars from these cuts were going to last. And when he was done, he set the piece of glass on the counter and slowly fell to the floor, his back sliding down the cabinet doors. He looked down at the blood, taking notice of how his forearms felt like they were on fire. He almost zoned out and ignored the whole situation, but then he remembered why he was in trouble. Fuck, Mark was going to kill him. He had been doing so well, and to give in now. . .

He had never been more disappointed in himself.

Ethan knew somewhere in the back of his mind that he needed to get up and clean up the cuts, but he didn’t think he had the energy to stand. He wanted to keep Mark from finding out about what he did for as long as possible, but he knew there was no hiding it, so he took his phone out of his pocket and sent a text.

Mark didn’t usually check his phone while he was recording, but he had been working for a while and definitely welcomed a quick break as soon as he heard the  _ ding  _ of a text notification.

Ethan: can you come downstairs

Mark glanced back up at his computer screen before deciding that whatever Ethan needed was more important. He had just stood up and stretched when his phone dinged again.

Ethan: don’t be mad

Mark’s heart sank as he realized something was definitely wrong. He didn’t think it would be self-harm since Ethan hadn’t done it in so long, so he didn’t even entertain the idea. He headed downstairs and looked around for his boyfriend, calling his name questioningly. He found him in the kitchen, slumped against the floor and hiding his arms.

“Ethan? Are you okay?” Mark asked, looking down at him with worry.

“Why do you think that piece of broken glass is there?” Ethan asked softly, motioning to the glass on top of the counter. Mark only shook his head in response, clearly confused. Ethan sighed and held his arms tighter against his chest, still hiding the damage. “Can you throw it away?” he asked, referring to the glass. Mark nodded and tossed it into the trash can before crouching down in front of Ethan.

“What’s going on?”

Ethan almost snorted, filled with self-loathing. “You might be a little bit clueless if you don’t understand why I’m hiding my arms like this.”

“Oh,” Mark said calmly, finally getting it. “Let me see them so we can clean them up.”

Ethan hesitantly held his arms out in front of him, looking away from Mark completely. Every time this happened, he felt horrible about it, but it was so much worse after quitting for so long. “Don’t be upset with yourself, don’t be embarrassed, okay?” Mark told him. How were they so good at reading each other?

Ethan nodded, and Mark helped him stand. They walked over to the sink, and Mark washed the blood off of Ethan’s arms with care, trying his hardest not to be upset at him for relapsing. Shit happens, right?

“I know you’re disappointed in me,” Ethan muttered. Mark turned off the faucet and sighed.

“I’m not disappointed, Eth. I just don’t want you to be in pain for the next few days,” he explained.

“Whatever.” Of course Ethan didn’t believe him, because Ethan was already so disappointed in himself. Mark had to feel the same way.

“Hey,” said Mark sternly, lightly grabbing Ethan’s wrist before he had the chance to walk away. “Don’t be like that. I’ll only be disappointed in you if you get snippy with me when I’ve just helped you clean up the cuts you gave yourself.” 

Ethan’s cheeks flushed bright red. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me, just believe me next time when I say I’m not disappointed. I love you, okay?”

“Okay.” Ethan smiled just the tiniest bit, and Mark stepped away from him.

“I’m going to finish recording. Will you be okay now?” asked Mark.

Ethan nodded and took a deep breath. “Yeah. Can we talk later though?”

“Of course.” Mark walked away then, and Ethan turned to watch him as he neared the staircase.

“Mark?” he called out.

“Yeah?” Mark stopped halfway up the stairs.

“I love you too.”

\--

It only took another 16 days for him to do it again. The most recent injuries on his arms were almost fully healed by then, thin white lines in place of red scars. His and Mark’s room was only brightened by candlelight, the full moon shining far away enough that it didn’t interfere. Mark had just gotten in the shower, and Ethan was left alone, lying in bed scrolling through his social media feed until he got bored and put his phone down. He looked up at the tall candlestick on the dresser, the wax slowly dripping down but hardening before it reached the plate. It was nice to look at.

He really had no idea why, but he was drawn to it--quite literally. He stood up and made his way over to the dresser, holding his hand out beside the flame. He could hardly feel the warmth from the side, so he held his hand above it, and the heat was too much almost instantly. His hand drew back on its own, a warning sign that he’d get hurt if he did that again.

He swiped a finger through the flame as quickly as possible, not feeling any of the heat. Apparently that trick does work. Cautiously, he held his pointer finger out maybe half a foot away from the flame and slowly inched it closer, his hand unbelievably steady. He had no idea what he was doing, but he was far too entranced to care. His finger moved ever closer until he felt the heat slowly tearing away at his skin, but he stopped before any real damage could be inflicted. He was about to walk away when the flame flickered, and somehow it drew him back in.

He couldn’t stop then. He felt traces of adrenaline coursing through him as he held his finger above the flame this time and lowered it enough so that the flame was almost touching him, and though it began to burn he didn’t pull away like he did before. He used all of his willpower to keep his finger there, letting the heat break the skin and practically boil his blood, his breathing growing heavier as the pain increased exponentially. It seemed almost funny how such a beautiful thing could do so much damage.

Though he was still caught up in the moment, the pain finally got to him when he let out an agonizing wail, but he held his finger above the flame still. He had to have a pretty bad burn by then. When he had had enough, he didn’t pull his hand away altogether--he swapped his pointer finger out for his index finger and repeated the process. Just as the heat and pain were building again, the bedroom door opened and Mark rushed over to him.

“What the fuck are you doing? Oh my god,” said Mark breathlessly, his hair wet from the shower.

Ethan finally snapped out of it, the interruption breaking him out of the trance. “W-What?” he responded softly, not even registering what he’d done.

“Are you okay? How much does it hurt?” asked Mark, and the pain Ethan had been momentarily distracted from came back full force, his fingers throbbing and stinging.

“Oh, oh shit, that’s painful,” he said, stepping away from the flame and holding his wrist.

“Do you realize what you just did?” Mark questioned, looking at him in. . . fear?

“What are you talking about, I was just looking at the candle and then I--”

“And then you self-harmed,” Mark finished for him.

Ethan gave him a quizzical look. “Um, what? No I didn’t. This is completely different.”

Mark shook his head. “No it isn’t. You hurt yourself, right? That’s self-harm. Doesn’t matter if it’s burns instead of cuts.”

The realization sunk in, and Ethan clasped his uninjured hand over his mouth. “Fuck.”

“Yeah.” Mark pursed his lips.

“I’m--”

“Don’t you dare say you’re sorry,” Mark quickly demanded. 

“What should I say then?” asked Ethan, sitting down on the edge of the bed and trying to ignore the guilt he felt.

“You won’t do it again. Promise me you won’t,” said Mark, sitting down next to him.

Normally, Ethan would argue that he can’t promise something like that, but as his fingers throbbed from the pain he could definitely say that he didn’t intend on doing that again. He didn’t even think he’d want to. “I promise I won’t do it again.”

Mark sighed. “Am I going to be able to trust you around candles now?”

“Of course,” Ethan said genuinely. “I really don’t want to do what I just did ever again. I’m being serious.”

Somehow, Mark knew he wasn’t lying. “Okay. Why don’t we blow these out and go to bed? The scented ones are starting to bother me.”

Ethan laughed. “Aw shucks, you can’t handle the smell of vanilla anymore? Come on, this is what it means to go even further beyond!” He proceeded to sniff as loud as he could, taking in the overwhelming scent all around the room. Mark chuckled and pulled Ethan down next to him on the bed, kissing him slow and deep.

“I don’t want to be smelling all that vanilla while I’m fucking you,” he whispered.

“Oh, so that’s what we’re doing then, huh?” Ethan ran his fingers up Mark’s sides, ignoring the slight pain he still felt in his right hand.

Mark smirked. “As long as you’re on board.”

“I’m always on board. Now rock my world, Markimoo,” Ethan said jokingly.

Mark visibly cringed. “God, you’ve got to stop saying that.”

Ethan snorted. “In your dreams.”

\--

Ethan pulled the sleeves of his sweater over his hands, the early December weather making the house chilly despite the heat they’d been paying for. He loved winter here because the coldest temperatures were still only 50 degrees or so, meaning he could get away with wearing comfy sweaters without being too hot or too cold.

He kept thinking about his brother lately. Sometimes it seemed surreal that he wasn’t alive anymore, and sometimes Ethan wouldn’t be sad because he wouldn’t think about it at all. But the past few days had been cruel to him, shoving every thought he could possibly have about Andrew’s death into his brain. It made him want to scream.

It also made him want to hurt himself.

He really wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was just because he was depressed, and his mind associated depressed thoughts with self-harm thoughts. It was the only thing that made sense in his opinion.

He was already so tired that evening; he didn’t want to try to resist that familiar urge.

Ethan padded over to the bathroom, his feet hitting the cold tile. He picked up his razor and closed and locked the door behind him, and as he held his forearm out in front of him, he hesitated. Not because he didn’t want to do it, but because he hated the idea of Mark finding out about this for the millionth time. Ethan had gone 52 days without self-harming, and if Mark found out he relapsed again he’d be crushed. After all those days without an incident, Mark probably really thought the last time Ethan did it was going to be his last time for good.

Ethan had other plans though, and the only thing standing in his way was the evidence that would clearly show on his skin. If he wanted to self-harm so bad, he’d have to do it somewhere else.

Shamefully, he pulled his jeans down to his knees and sat down on the lid of the toilet, practically glaring at his thighs. That would be the next best place to cut. As long as he avoided having sex with Mark for a couple of weeks, he’d probably never find out about it. All Ethan had to do was make sure not to cut deep.

He cut way too deep.

For some reason, cutting on his thighs hurt a lot less than cutting on his arms, so he used more force as he dragged the blades across his skin. He didn’t even think about the fact that he’d most likely end up cutting so much deeper, and only when his thighs were covered in blood did he realize how bad it was.

He kept mumbling to himself that it would be fine, probably sounding like a madman as he cleaned himself up.  _ Man makes the melon makes the man mad, _ he said to himself jokingly when he noticed. God, he probably  _ was  _ crazy.

He tried not to panic when he surveyed the damage after he had cleaned up his legs. Those scars would probably last much longer than usual. They might even last forever. His new plan was to hide them for as long as he could and hope that they’d be gone before Mark could see them. Damn, there goes sex for a while.

Ethan actually survived a decent amount of time without getting caught. He and Mark didn’t get into any situations where they’d see each other unclothed for about a week, which was a relief. At one point, Mark had tried to initiate something, but Ethan said he was tired and wanted to sleep. It seemed like such a normal reason that Mark didn’t question him. Do you really need to question someone for that anyway? If they say no, you back off.

He couldn’t ignore the guilt though. For months, every time he would hurt himself, Mark knew about it. And him not knowing this time sort of felt like a broken promise. Like Ethan was keeping secrets. He tried to tell himself that hey, ignorance is bliss, and what Mark didn’t know couldn’t hurt him, but isn’t that what people in toxic relationships tell themselves?

Though the guilt was still there, he managed to push the other thoughts away after a few days. Sure, he felt bad, but he’d done this dance many times. Mark finding out he hurt himself again wouldn’t even be much of a surprise, right? For a bit, Ethan allowed himself to feel good about hiding it for this many days.

Another week went by without any problems, and Ethan felt slightly less anxious as the days passed and his scars faded. They were definitely still there, but much less visible than they had been at first. A part of him almost did want Mark to find out, though, because worrying about getting caught every day could be exhausting at times. Yet Mark never noticed anything, and it got to a point where Ethan began to question whether Mark really knew him as well as he claimed a while ago. Eventually, he got himself to just stop thinking about it. If Mark hadn’t noticed yet, he probably wouldn’t notice ever. 

Famous last words.

Ethan and Mark had just finished having a heated debate over who would win in a fight between all of Santa’s reindeer, and when they realized how late it was (who knew you could spend so much time having a debate like that one?), they agreed it was time to head to sleep. Mark took his jeans off and Ethan removed his sweatpants, hopping onto the bed with enthusiasm. Mark joined him, but before they could get comfortable under the covers, he noticed something.

Ethan looked over at Mark, whose gaze seemed to be fixated on the sheets. Ethan followed Mark’s eyes, and it took perhaps a bit too long for him to see that Mark was looking not at the sheets, but at Ethan himself. No, at Ethan’s legs.

Ethan still wasn’t sure why Mark was staring at his legs, not until Mark’s expression turned melancholy and he reached his hand out, rubbing his thumb over a faint scar on Ethan’s thigh. It was hardly there, but Ethan looked down and could see it clear as day.

Which meant Mark could see it too.

“Ethan,” he began, clearing his throat, “What’s this?”


	2. Empty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may have written the candle scene from chapter 1 using personal experience. Just in case anyone was wondering.
> 
> I hope you're all finding this fic pretty decent so far. I've written 5 of the 6 chapters already, so I'll be posting them frequently.

After Mark found out about Ethan’s latest relapse, they both happened to sort of shut down. It was completely new. Ethan had a feeling he would slip into an episode as soon as Mark touched one of the scars and asked,  _ “What’s this?”  _ He just didn’t expect Mark to go silent, too.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Mark had asked, hurt as he drew his hand away. “I wouldn’t have been disappointed, Eth, we talked about this.” Ethan began to feel pressure behind his eyes, tears building up there. Not because he was upset, but because he couldn’t believe Mark was still being so nice to him.

“I just--I didn’t think--” He didn’t know what to say, and he could hardly speak. “Can we talk about it tomorrow?” The tears in his eyes were threatening to spill over as he choked the words out.

Mark sighed and nodded. “Okay.” He sounded more tired than usual, but Ethan didn’t have the focus to think about it.

They went to sleep, and for the first time, Ethan felt uncomfortable with Mark’s arms around him. 

The next morning, neither of them got out of bed. Ethan knew he wouldn’t be able to, but he still had the consideration to make sure Mark got up at a decent time. When he rolled over to face him and put a hand on his shoulder, Mark opened his eyes and mumbled something incoherent.

“You should get up,” Ethan whispered. “It’s late.”

Mark looked over at the clock on the nightstand. “It’s ten. That’s not that late.”

“It’s late for us, though.” Mark didn’t respond. “Come on, you probably have stuff to do.”

Mark sighed. “So do you, but you’re not going to get out of bed, are you?”

Ethan pursed his lips and rolled back over onto his other side. “Just get up.”

“Give me another half hour,” Mark grumbled. “I’m tired.”

Ethan didn’t think he was just tired.

\--

By the middle of the afternoon, neither of them had gotten up. Ethan began to worry about Mark, wondering why he was acting this way. Was he trying to prove a point?

It took Mark until 4 pm to really do anything, moving to sit up and lightly running his fingers through Ethan’s hair. “I’m sorry,” he said softly.

“For what?” asked Ethan.

“For not doing enough. Clearly you didn’t tell me about the last time you hurt yourself because you thought it would be an issue. I never want you to think that,” Mark explained. Ethan turned to lay on his back, looking up at him.

“Do you seriously think you’re not doing enough?” he asked, dumbfounded. “Mark, you’ve done more for me than I’ve done for myself.”

Mark smiled, but his face fell a moment later. “Then why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because,” Ethan began, “I was just so disappointed in myself. I thought that maybe if I was the only one who knew, then I could try to forget about it eventually. And, well, I almost made it two months without doing it. I was worried you’d see it as a setback.”

“A setback? You really need to start seeing the positive side of things, Eth.” Mark stood up out of bed and stretched, trying not to care about the fact that he’d wasted half of the day already. “Relapses suck, sure, but you managed to go almost two months without it happening. So it’s not a setback, because you’re getting better each time.”

Ethan still seemed skeptical. “Well I still did it,” he muttered.

“Yeah, but you’re getting closer to stopping,” said Mark. “The longer you go without doing it, the better. You’re improving.”

“Okay,” Ethan agreed, slowly nodding. “That makes sense.”

“Anyway, I’d love to spend all day with you, but if you plan to stay in here that can’t happen.” Mark slipped on some jeans and switched out his t-shirt before looking back at Ethan for an answer.

Ethan wanted to get up and record videos for his own channel, since he’d been falling behind in content recently. But he couldn’t physically move to get out of bed. He felt as though his bones were made of lead and he was chained to the mattress. The little energy he had was spent on talking. It didn’t help that he felt empty inside. “Mark,” he said sadly, “you know I can’t--”

“Yeah, yeah, okay,” said Mark. “I’m going to find something to eat and then record some stuff.”

“Do you ever miss Unus Annus?” asked Ethan, sinking further into the pillows. “You know, since we got to record videos together.”

“Yeah,” Mark admitted. “If only we would have called the channel  _ Et Duobus Annis  _ instead.”

“What is that, two years? I don’t think it would be as cool that way.”

“Well we could still record videos together. We could start up a new series,” suggested Mark. It did sound like a good idea.

“Or we could fuse into one person and create a new channel, saying our name is Norbert Moses,” Ethan joked.

Mark laughed and said, “Yeah, right. Do you want me to bring you up something to eat?”

“Um, I might just wait until dinner. Is that okay?” Though he was hungry, he didn’t think he had the energy to eat anyway.

“As long as you promise you’ll eat then.”

Ethan pulled the duvet over his body more and nodded. “I promise.”

\--

Ethan did eat that evening; in fact, they both ate a full three-course meal. Ethan channeled all of his willpower to force himself to get up and stop moping, and he decided that in order to keep himself going he’d have to stay busy. It resulted in an hour of cleaning followed by two hours of cooking. Mark had been nothing short of surprised, but the idea of getting to sit down and have a three-course meal at home with his boyfriend sounded too enticing to pass up.

Ethan hated starving himself by this point. Being ravenous all day every day and having much less energy was a horrible thing to do to himself, and since he’d finally realized that fact he found himself becoming much less anorexic. Unfortunately, he still had times where he felt uncomfortable and disgusted with himself for eating so much at one time, which is why he took a break from cleaning up dinner to shamefully indulge in those bulimic tendencies he hated mentioning.

He didn’t tell Mark, only because he didn’t want Mark to worry about him. In the back of his mind, something was warning him that keeping things to himself like that was a dangerous road to embark on, but he ignored it. He finished cleaning up and went back upstairs to sleep.

He woke up with a stomach ache, knowing he had to eat something right away. He slipped out of Mark’s arms and grabbed the first box of cereal he could find, pouring himself a bowl and scarfing it down in record time. Mark was surprised to see him awake when he got up himself an hour later, and he had a weird thought telling him something might be up with Ethan.

Despite not really eating much for lunch that day and only having a small dinner, Ethan felt locked into a place in his mind that was forcing him to get all of the food he’d eaten back out of his system. He felt weirdly sick after eating, so he ran back off to the bathroom and repeated what he’d done the night before, but what was concerning was just how much he vomited. There’s no way he should have been able to throw up that much after only eating sparingly that day.

When he stood up to leave the bathroom, he got an awful head rush, and he felt unbelievably weakened. He could hardly hold himself up. He gave himself a minute before opening the door, and that’s when it happened.

He fainted.

Mark heard a thump downstairs, and he called out for Ethan to ask what it was. When he didn’t get a response, he assumed the worst, rushing down the stairs and searching rooms until he found him on the floor in front of the bathroom, unconscious. “Shit Ethan, what did you do?” he mumbled, making sure he was still  _ alive,  _ for god’s sake. He carefully picked him up and carried him over to the couch, setting him down and trying to figure out what could have happened.

“M-Mark?” Ethan said, his voice quiet and weak. 

Mark looked up and sighed in relief before asking, “What the hell happened? I came down here because I heard something and you were passed out on the floor!”

“Oh, it must have been because I--” Ethan stopped himself, looking up at Mark with wide eyes. Should he tell him? Should he lie? No, lying was wrong, but he did  _ not  _ want to tell him the truth.

“What? Because you what?” questioned Mark.

Ethan audibly gulped, his face heating up. “I threw up a lot. On purpose.”

“ _ Ethan, _ ” Mark breathed, “you’re not keeping enough nutrients in your body. God, you’ve probably made yourself sick.”

As if on cue, Ethan shivered. “Uh, I’m a little cold all of a sudden. Do you think I have a fever?”

Mark placed the back of his hand on Ethan’s forehead for a few seconds and sighed. “Yeah, you’re definitely hot.”

“Aw, you’re too kind,” Ethan joked, trying to lighten the mood.

Mark rolled his eyes. “Damn it, Ethan, I knew this was going to happen if you didn’t stop with that. Do you not think it’s disgusting when you make yourself throw up?”

“Please don’t be mad,” Ethan said so softly it was almost inaudible.

“I’m not mad,” Mark responded, grabbing a blanket from the chair beside him and handing it to Ethan. “But you know this means I can’t kiss you for the next few days or I’ll get sick too.”

Ethan gasped. “Oh nooo, how will I survive!” he exclaimed, trying not to giggle. “What a travesty.”

“You’ll be regretting that sarcasm by tomorrow when you’re begging me to kiss you,” Mark pointed out. “Now, you really do need to eat. Do you want soup?”

“Ah, liquid that counts as food,” said Ethan. “Of course.”

“Tomato or chicken noodle?”

Ethan scoffed. “Anyone who likes tomato soup is either a psychopath or a hermit.”

“I’m surprised you even know what a hermit is since you have such a limited vocabulary,” Mark teased.

“Hey, stop insulting me and go make my delicious soup!” Ethan commanded.

Mark smirked and walked away. “You’re lucky I love you.”

Yeah, he was.

\--

Ethan could definitely say he learned a pretty good lesson that day, his sickness bothering the fuck out of him until he got better three days later. He was editing videos on his laptop the afternoon he started feeling better, and Mark came into the living room and sat down beside him.

“What’s up?” he asked, looking over at the screen.

“Editing another Q & A,” Ethan replied, not even bothering to look up. 

“I need you to do me a favor,” said Mark, and Ethan finally tore his eyes away from his laptop screen. A favor?

“What is it?” he questioned curiously.

Mark cracked his knuckles and chewed on his lip nervously. He mumbled something so quiet that Ethan couldn’t hear him. “What did you say?” he asked.

“I need you to promise me you won’t make yourself throw up anymore. I mean, look at what it did to you the other day,” Mark said. He avoided Ethan’s hard stare.

“Mark, I’m not good at keeping those kinds of promises--”

“I know,” Mark interrupted. “I know. But you gotta work with me here; ease my mind a little bit.  _ Promise me you’ll stop doing that shit. _ ”

Ethan gave in and put a hand on Mark’s shoulder, smiling at him. “Okay,” he said calmly. “I’ll stop.”


	3. Valentine

Is there any worse day than Valentine’s day to self-harm? The irony isn’t even comical. Ethan couldn’t have known that morning that it would be the last time he would ever self-harm, but it’s hard to tell anyway. It’s difficult to trust yourself with these things.

As he was washing away the blood on his arms again, he made the decision to keep this relapse from Mark. By electing not to tell him, Ethan was definitely putting himself in a bad position right from the start, but the endorphins that were being released as his forearms stung distracted him from the problem.

When his skin was dry and the cuts had stopped bleeding, he pulled his hoodie back on and exited the bathroom, and as he turned the corner to go into the kitchen he almost ran straight into Mark. “Oh my fucking--the hell, Mark, you scared the shit out of me,” he wheezed, trying to calm himself before he ended up slipping further into panic and having an anxiety attack. The littlest things could set him off sometimes.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” said Mark. “Are you okay? You kind of scared me too.” Ethan calmed himself down, and he made his way into the kitchen for breakfast. Yeah, he was ashamed of himself for self-harming first thing in the morning.

“I got us reservations at a fancy restaurant for dinner tonight,” Mark told him. “We’ll have to dress nice, but they’re supposed to have the best cheesecakes in the state according to their advertisements.”

Ethan loved the idea, but as Chica came padding into the room he had a thought. “Wait, who will watch the dogs while we’re gone? I just realized we haven’t both been out of the house at the same time in forever.”

Mark chuckled. “I know, we need to get out of here. And I already have it figured out; Amy offered to come over this afternoon and keep an eye on them for us.”

Ethan leaned down to pet Chica, whose tail was wagging a mile a minute. “Oh, that’s great. What time is the reservation?”

“7:30, I’m pretty sure,” said Mark. “Do you still have nice clothes that fit you?”

Ethan crossed his arms and pouted. “Of course I do! My closet isn’t just filled with soft boi hoodies! Hey, maybe we could go all out and wear our Unus Annus suits.”

“Hell no, I’m not wearing all white in public. You should wear yours though, you look super hot in all black.”

“Oh? Maybe we can play footsie under the table,” Ethan proposed, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

“Maybe we can fuck in the bathroom like that wet dream you had last week,” Mark joked.

Ethan started to giggle. “Oh, fuck off. I would never actually do that.”

“We’ll see what happens,” Mark decided.

“Shut  _ up _ !”

\--

Ethan fixed the collar of his black shirt and decided whether or not to button the top button. What would make him look sexier? Not that he wanted to have Mark drooling over him the whole evening, but he did want to look his best.

He decided not to button it, situating his jacket before stepping out of the room and heading downstairs. The doorbell rang just as his feet hit the ground, and he rushed over to let Amy in. “Hey, thanks so much for doing this,” he said as he motioned for her to come inside. She stepped in and removed her shoes, smiling at him as her eyes raked over his outfit.

“You look great,” she said. “Mark is going to be all over you.”

Ethan’s face flushed then, and he wondered how Amy hadn’t been bothered at all by her ex-boyfriend of four years dating one of their mutual friends. “Thanks, I think,” he responded with a grin.

Mark walked into the room then, and his eyes immediately focused on Ethan. He had to force himself to look away after a moment so he could greet Amy and thank her for agreeing to watch the dogs for them. She said it was no problem at all. “Go on, have a nice night together,” she told them. Mark almost felt bad for her since she was alone on Valentine’s day, choosing to dog-sit for her ex and his boyfriend. He tried not to think about it though, especially when she seemed to be in a good mood anyway.

“You ready to go?” he asked Ethan, who nodded in response. Mark turned back to Amy, who was sitting on the couch petting Spencer. “Thanks again,” he said to her before he and Ethan headed out to the car.

Mark kept sneaking glances over at Ethan on the way there, having to remind himself to keep his eyes on the road when all he wanted to do was lean over and kiss Ethan until his lips were sore. Even through all he had found himself doing for Ethan over the past several months, he was never bothered by it. He loved Ethan. His heart always skipped a beat when he remembered that Ethan loved him too.

After they had been seated and ordered their drinks, Ethan rested his chin in his hands and sent a loving smile Mark’s way, getting lost in the man’s dark eyes until Mark interrupted his thoughts by saying, “They have good bread here.”

Ethan almost laughed. “That’s your conversation starter? ‘ _ They have good bread here _ ’? Wow, you’re out of practice.”

Mark crossed his arms and tried his best not to smile. “Hey! I think it’s completely reasonable to talk about food while we’re sitting in a restaurant.”

“Yeah, but ‘ _ they have good bread here _ ’ is amateur small talk,” Ethan claimed.

“Oh really? Think you can do better?” Mark challenged. “Let’s hear it.”

Ethan cleared his throat and said, “You know, I usually prefer rolls, but the wheat bread here is to die for. Have you tried it before?”

Mark slowly nodded, analyzing the words. “Okay, asking a question at the end to keep the conversation going is pretty good. Including preferences and opinions to let the other person know a little bit about yourself while also discussing a relevant topic. I guess you’ve bested me,” he admitted. 

“Yes! I’m actually better than you at something!” Ethan exclaimed happily. “Are you proud of me?”

Their waitress came over and set their drinks down on the table, as well as a small loaf of bread in a little wire basket. “Here you go, I hope you two are enjoying the evening,” she said sweetly. “What can I get for you?”

Twenty minutes later, they were digging into their food and savoring the taste, which was definitely up to par. Ethan swallowed a bite of linguini and sighed. “This is so fucking good,” he breathed, going in for another bite. The food was so delicious that he practically moaned.

“You close?” Mark asked jokingly, and Ethan almost spit out his drink as he broke out into a fit of laughter, flashbacks to the edible slime video popping into his head. That may be one of the few videos he’s glad to only have memories of; possessing no physical evidence of that moment was a relief.

“Those two words will forever be the biggest turn-off,” he replied, wiping his mouth with his napkin. “If you ever phrase it like that while we’re fucking I just might have to ask you to leave.”

Mark snorted. “Yeah, like you’d actually be willing to stop.”

“If you said that, I would be!”

Ethan waited until they were served dessert to skillfully slip his right foot out of his shoe, lifting his leg and barely brushing his socked foot against Mark’s calf. The latter didn’t question it at first, but he looked up and made eye contact with Ethan when he raised his leg more and brushed his toes over the inside of Mark’s thigh, close to his knee at first because he didn’t want to rush. Neither of them said anything, and Ethan took a bite of his cheesecake as he steadily inched his foot further, sliding it up Mark’s thigh until he was a centimeter from untouched territory. He noticed how Mark’s breathing became the slightest bit heavier, and he forgot about having patience as he let his careless side take over, and he pressed the ball of his foot right into Mark’s crotch, aware of how Mark’s thighs clenched and he froze in place. Ethan rubbed his foot around for a bit until Mark placed his fists on the table and said indignantly, “ _ Ethan. _ ”

Ethan halted his movements, but didn’t pull his foot away. “Come on, don’t ruin the fun,” he said, moving his foot up the tiniest bit and stopping in his tracks when he realized the problem. “Oh my god, just that made you hard?”

“Shut up,” Mark grumbled lowly, his eyebrows furrowing. “All I’ve been able to think about is fucking you on this table. You look utterly irresistible in that goddamn suit, and you making those little noises when you eat makes me wonder how loud I could make you scream my name if we were alone in here.”

Ethan pulled his foot away then and slipped his shoe back on, heat pooling in his stomach. “You should, um, you should try to make yourself soft as soon as possible so we can get out of here,” he said.

By the time they had gotten home and stumbled through the door, it was nearing 10 pm. Amy looked up from her phone and smiled at them. “Hey, how was dinner?” she asked.

Despite wanting to shove Ethan against the door and fuck him right then and there, Mark stayed patient since it would be rude to push Amy out the door right away. “Amazing,” he answered. “You have to go there sometime.”

She stood up and collected her things, already heading towards the door. “I can practically feel the sexual tension in here,” she said. “And you two are blatantly eye-fucking each other.” She slipped on her shoes and walked past them, putting a hand on the doorknob.

“We can talk for a minute before you go, it only seems fair,” Ethan offered, but she shook her head.

“I should be heading home anyway. I’ll catch up with you guys soon.” 

The moment the door closed behind her, Mark grabbed Ethan by the hips and pulled him forward, connecting their lips in a searing kiss. Ethan’s hands flew up into Mark’s hair, tugging lightly as he eagerly kissed back. Mark gripped Ethan’s hips tighter, causing him to gasp, his mouth opening wide and allowing Mark to slip his tongue in with easy access.

They managed to pull apart long enough in between kisses to make their way upstairs, shrugging their jackets off of their shoulders and letting them fall to the floor. Mark backed Ethan up until the latter’s legs hit the bed, and he fell back onto it before Mark climbed over him, reaching out to unbutton Ethan’s shirt. “Fuck, why are there so many buttons?” he mumbled, struggling to undo them all. Eventually, he succeeded, practically tearing Ethan’s shirt off.

It’s a shame Ethan had forgotten about his relapse that morning.

Mark sat up and stared at Ethan’s torn up forearms, the mood killed instantly. “Why,” Mark began, “w-why did you stop telling me when you do this? Do you not trust me?” Not only was he hurt, but it was the first time he actually felt  _ angry _ . Angry that Ethan stopped confiding in him. When it comes down to it, he was just keeping a secret.

Ethan didn’t know what to say, a deer in headlights as he felt himself shrinking under Mark’s infuriated gaze. “I do trust you,” he said, his voice breaking. 

“Did you do this today? It looks like you did this today.” Ethan nodded hesitantly. “What the  _ fuck,  _ Ethan. Why didn’t you tell me?” He clenched his fists tight, raising them ever so slightly.

“Please don’t hit me,” Ethan begged, the words coming out in a whisper as he fought back tears. “It’s just that I’m ashamed. That’s why,” he added quickly.

As soon as Mark heard the words and saw Ethan holding his hands up in front of his face as if to block a punch, he snapped out of his rage. “What? I’m not going to hit you,” he said, unclenching his fists and dropping them to his sides. “I’d never, ever hurt you, baby.”

He slowly moved to take Ethan’s hands in his, glancing down at the cuts on Ethan’s pale skin. “I’m sorry I got so mad at you. I guess it’s just that the way I see it, you’re keeping secrets from me. I don’t want either of us to have secrets.”

Ethan sucked in a deep breath and exhaled shakily, still on edge despite Mark’s apology. “I’m sorry I hurt myself,” he replied. “I shouldn’t have kept it from you either.”

Mark noticed Ethan was having a hard time breathing properly, and his hands were shaking slightly in Mark’s. “It’s okay,” he reassured him. “We’re okay.”

“Are you sure you didn’t want to hit me?” asked Ethan, his eyes still watering with hot tears.

Mark shook his head rapidly, leaning down to hug his boyfriend. “Of course not. I may have been angry for a minute or two, but I would never even  _ think  _ about hurting you, not even for a second.”

“Okay.” Ethan closed his eyes, letting a single tear spill over as he started to breathe normally again.

Mark reached over to turn off the lamp before huddling up close to Ethan, pulling their bodies against each other. He placed a hand on the side of Ethan’s face and caressed his cheek with his thumb, his skin soft. Mark gave him a sympathetic smile, though he didn’t think Ethan could make it out in the darkness. 

“It’s all okay, I promise,” said Mark. “I love you so much.”

“I’m so sorry,” Ethan mumbled, his tone soaked in guilt. “I’m sorry I did it.”

“I forgive you,” Mark told him. “You don’t have to apologize anymore. Try to rest, sweetheart.”

Ethan let his eyes flutter shut again as Mark held him, sinking into the mattress and letting fatigue consume him. He fell asleep listening to Mark softly sing to him, his voice so deep and quiet he could hardly make the words out.

“Oh, little love. . .”


	4. Lost Hope

Ethan couldn’t help but feel like he had ruined Valentine’s day. How could he not feel that way? Even with Mark singing him to sleep, he woke up in the morning with a terrible headache and a horrible feeling in his chest; he wanted to cry and never leave the bed. So he pulled the duvet over himself more, curling up into a ball and trying to go back to sleep.

Mark awoke from the movement beside him, stretching and sitting up. He blinked a few times to adjust to the natural light streaming into the room, though grey clouds roamed the skies. His arm wandered over to Ethan’s smaller form, resting his hand on Ethan’s shoulder and asking, “Are you okay?”

Ethan didn’t respond, instead choosing to pretend to be asleep. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to speak, not now anyway. His plan failed when Mark said, “I know you’re awake, Eth. Are you okay?”

The hand that was on Ethan’s shoulder rubbed up and down slowly, helping to ease him but not breaking his silence. He only sighed, fighting back tears. Mark pulled his hand away and moved to get out of bed, and when his weight left the mattress Ethan grabbed the other side of the duvet and pulled all of it on top of him, almost completely hidden beneath it. Mark knew by then what was happening, and he reminded himself that Ethan’s behavior would only be this way for a day, most likely nothing more.

It didn’t go away after a day.

It didn’t go away after two days, either.

“Eth? Can you say something?” Mark asked on the second afternoon, leaning over the bed and shaking Ethan a bit. Ethan squeezed his eyes shut, his eyebrows furrowing. “Come on, talk to me,” Mark pleaded.

“Don't want to,” Ethan mumbled, keeping his eyes closed.

Mark sighed, stricken with worry. “You have to get up at some point, babe.”

“Go away,” said Ethan, a hint of annoyance in his tone.

“Please,” Mark begged. Ethan grumbled something negative, dramatically throwing the covers off of himself and sitting up, raking his hands down his face and groaning. He scooted to the edge of the bed and slipped off of the mattress, standing on his tired feet. Mark opened his mouth to say something, relief etched onto his features, but Ethan cut him off.

“I’m just going to the bathroom,” he said. “And then I’m going back to bed.”

“No.” Mark’s tone was confident and unwavering. 

Ethan turned back, giving him a quizzical look. “No?” he questioned, wondering if he’d heard him correctly.

“I’m not going to let you spend another day in bed. It’s already almost three in the afternoon. You can go to the bathroom or whatever, but you’re not going to come back in here after and get back into bed.”

“You can’t  _ make  _ me--”

“Oh, but I can,” Mark interrupted. “And it’ll be good for you. Maybe we can sit outside or something and get some fresh air.”

“You’re sadistic,” Ethan mumbled, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

Mark took a few steps towards him, frowning. “I’m trying to  _ help  _ you,” he pointed out, his expression shifting into one of hurt. “Let me help you,” he said quieter.

Ethan dropped his arms to his sides, breaking from his frustrated demeanor and letting his hazel eyes fill with sadness. He let Mark approach him as he replied, “You’ve already helped so much.”

Mark picked up the utter devastation in Ethan’s tone, taking the final step up to him and cautiously moving in for a hug, surprised when Ethan didn’t hug him back. After a few silent moments, though, Ethan wrapped his arms around Mark, reciprocating the embrace and letting his head fall onto Mark’s shoulder. “I’m sorry I’m like this,” he said, his voice strangled. 

Mark held him tighter, speaking slowly and deliberately. “Ethan, it’s  _ okay, _ ” he said, his words holding promise. 

“ _ No, _ ” Ethan wailed, his eyes brimming with tears that he couldn’t hold back no matter how hard he tried. “I know you don’t like me when I’m like this. You don’t want me to be like this anyway.”

“That’s not because it bothers me, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Mark explained. “I just hate seeing you with so little energy, and it worries me that you’ve been in bed for nearly two days.”

Ethan let out a shaky exhale, his eyes wide as hot tears fell to the floor. “I dunno how to fix this,” he murmured in a low register. Mark had never heard him use that pitch before. “I’ve had so many issues, and this is the only one I genuinely don’t think can be fixed.”

“Of course it can,” Mark tried, but he lost his train of thought when Ethan started to sink down to the floor, falling to his knees in slow motion and letting his head hang in hopelessness. 

“I can’t do it any longer,” he whispered, and it took Mark a moment to process what he’d said. 

“Hey, no, what are you talking about?” he asked, sitting down cross-legged next to Ethan. “Y-You don’t mean--”

“ _ Want to die. _ ” The words slid off of his tongue before he even had the chance to think about the impact they would have. Mark quietly gasped, reaching a hand out to touch Ethan but drawing back as the latter jerked his body away from him, breathing in hard, shaky breaths. “Leave me,” he hissed, hardly able to see through the waterfall of tears. 

Mark had to do something, he had to say something, he had to fix the train wreck before another train came by and smashed into the other. “No, Ethan, what’s going on?” Ethan seemed completely trapped in his own thoughts; in his own world as his shoulders tensed and his fingers twitched. “Ethan, baby, look at me, come on,  _ come on,  _ fuck, Eth.” 

Ethan squeezed his eyes shut tight and balled his hands into fists, his fingernails digging into his palms so hard he wanted to scream in pain. “I-I  _ can’t, _ ” he wheezed, letting out a single sob. 

He completely shut down, slamming his fists down on the floor and falling forward so that his head rested between his arms, which were still sliced up and tender from the other morning. He whimpered and whined for all of ten seconds before he stilled and went silent, his fists unclenching as he relaxed. A quivering sigh sounded from him, and dear  _ god  _ Mark was so fucking scared.

The only other time he had ever been this afraid was the night Ethan tried to take his own life. Mind-numbing fear entered his entire system, not unlike the feeling of being totally submerged into ice water. “Ethan,” he choked out. “Ethan, Ethan,  _ Ethan, _ answer me. . .”

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and called Amy, since she had been around when Ethan attempted suicide all those months ago. She picked up on the third ring, saying, “Hello!” cheerily. Well, Mark was about to ruin her afternoon.

“I need you to help me,” he said breathlessly, not having the time to return the greeting. “Ethan is--he’s scaring the fuck out of me.”

“What? What do you mean?” asked Amy, already concerned.

“He’s just on the floor, I mean, he was crying before but now he’s completely silent and has stopped moving, and--and he said he wants to die.” He took Amy’s stunned silence as an opportunity to keep going. “I’ve never,  _ ever  _ seen him like this before. I don’t even think he had acted like this when he tried to k-kill himself.”

Amy nearly dropped her phone as she ran across the room to put her shoes on. “I’m coming over. Is that okay?”

“Yes, please, I need someone to help,” Mark begged. “Wait, is Kathryn home?”

“Yeah, why?” Amy frantically searched for her keys, trying to remember where she had put them last.

“Can you bring her too?” asked Mark.

“Hey, Kathryn!” Amy called up the stairs. “We have to go to Mark’s house like, right now. I can explain on the way there.” Kathryn rushed down the stairs, sending Amy a confused look as she slipped on her shoes as well and grabbed Amy’s keys for her. “Okay, we’ll be there soon,” Amy told Mark. “Gotta go.”

The call ended, and Mark shoved his phone back into his pocket before approaching Ethan. He just barely grazed Ethan’s shoulder with the tips of his fingers, and Ethan skittered away, crawling speedily across the floor and away from Mark. “Ethan, you need to listen to me,” said Mark, watching as Ethan backed himself up against the wall and hugged his knees to his chest. “Whatever you’re feeling right now, whether it be guilt, anger, frustration, fear, shame, hopelessness--generally any negative emotion, you have  _ got  _ to snap out of it. At least look at me, or--or say something,  _ anything. _ ”

Ethan let his head fall onto his knees, staying silent and still. Mark got up and contemplated approaching him again, not wanting to scare him or set him off, causing him to spiral further into whatever inner turmoil he was experiencing while huddled against the wall. Mark decided not to risk it, instead pacing back and forth in the room and trying to come up with any kind of solution to the new and frightening situation. His ears were ringing so loud he didn’t hear the front door open. Only when there was a knock on the bedroom door did the ringing stop, and he briefly glanced at Ethan.

“I’m going to go talk to someone,” he breathed. “Stay right there, please please  _ please  _ don’t do anything. I love you.” He opened the door and stepped out into the hall, Amy and Kathryn immediately taking notice of his disheveled appearance and horrified expression.

“How is he?” Amy asked, placing a comforting hand on Mark’s shoulder. 

He shook his head. “I barely touched him, and he scrambled off to the corner of the room. He’s just huddled up there, and he still hasn’t said a word to me.”

Kathryn chewed on her lip nervously. “Do you think there’s anything we can do?”

“There has to be,” Amy chimed in. “What are the options? Does anyone have any ideas?”

They all thought for a minute or two, glancing back and forth between each other and the floor before Kathryn spoke up. “Maybe, if you want him to snap out of it, you could give him an incentive. Or, like, an ultimatum even. It might at least get his attention.”

Amy shook her head rapidly. “No, you’d only end up freaking him out. He’d have a panic attack in there; the last thing he needs is to be pressured.”

“What if we just let him ride it out? He has to do something eventually,” Kathryn suggested.

Mark sighed and glanced back at the door. “I wouldn’t be so sure. He’s spent almost two days in bed. If he sank into whatever this is, I highly doubt he’ll come back out of it on his own anytime soon.” He stared at each of the girls. “My biggest fear is him trying to repeat what happened before, only get it right this time.” They both knew he was referring to the suicide attempt. Thank god it had only been an attempt then. “When he said he wants to die, he just--his voice--”

Both of them stepped forward and wrapped their arms around him, knowing that if Mark couldn’t get a hold of himself he’d never be able to get a hold of Ethan. “He’ll be okay,” Amy reassured him. 

“Yeah, we just need to really think,” said Kathryn. “There has to be a way for us to help him.”

“When he got really depressed before,” Mark began, “if I gave him affection or anything like that it would cheer him up, at least a little bit. It worked every time, but with him this far gone I don’t think it will now. I mean, I barely touched him a few minutes ago and he flipped out.”

Kathryn and Amy shared a look. “Maybe you scared him,” Kathryn mentioned. 

“Maybe it won’t work with just you, but there might be a chance will all three of us,” Amy added.

Mark nodded, agreeing with both of their points. He placed a hand on the doorknob and said, “You might be onto something. Follow my lead.”

They entered the room, Mark slowly making his way over to Ethan as the others followed behind him. He crouched down next to him and whispered, “Hey, Eth, I’ve got friends with me. Amy and Kathryn are here, and they want to help you just as much as I do.” He turned back to the girls and nodded, giving them a second to kneel in front of Ethan. “Is it okay if I touch you?” He got no response, so he made the decision on his own and hoped Ethan wouldn’t recoil again. He reached forward and gently took one of Ethan’s hands, pulling it towards himself and turning it over to place his other hand in Ethan’s palm, rubbing small circles into the skin.

Amy reached out and took Ethan’s other hand, doing the same thing as Mark and hoping her smaller, more delicate fingers would help to soothe him. Her hands were warm, and his were cold. Kathryn scooted closer to Ethan’s side and let her right hand rest on his arm, slowly sliding it up to rest on his shoulder instead. He tensed up at first, but relaxed again when Kathryn let her other hand wander up to his soft hair, carding her fingers through the short brown locks. 

“We’re all here for you,” Mark murmured, leaning in even closer.

“We love you,” Amy said softly, gently squeezing his hand.

“We’d like it if you could look up at us for a minute,” Kathryn added sweetly.

It took another thirty seconds of affectionate rubbing and caressing before Ethan lifted his head and ever so slowly let his eyes open, looking back and forth between the three people in front of him. His lips parted, and he exhaled steadily, the shaky tone he had had earlier dissipating. All three of them gave him sympathetic smiles, and for once he didn’t see pity behind them.

He felt his head fall back against the wall, his heart throbbing and his mind screaming. He watched through half-lidded eyes as Mark moved forward and pressed a kiss to his cheek, settling back and placing a kiss to Ethan’s hand, too. He felt himself focusing on the gentle touches he received from his friends, care etched into every movement. For once, somehow, Ethan pushed the negative, tormenting thoughts into a box in the back of his mind, locking it and stowing away the key. He felt the tiniest bit lighter, forgetting about every awful, nagging desire to hurt himself or worse. He didn’t let it bother him anymore, even if it would only be for a little while.

Mark’s dark eyes shimmered with adoration, his lips parting so he could say, “It’s all okay, see? We’re right here. Do you think you can stand?”

Kathryn pulled her hands away so she could spot him in a way, holding her arms out in case his legs were to give out or he wasn’t quite able to muster enough energy. Mark and Amy still held onto his hands as he slowly lifted himself, using the wall for back support. Then, he was being slowly led back over to the bed and laying atop the mattress, his friends pulling the covers back over him.

Mark got into bed with him, laying on his side and scooting in close in order to wrap an arm around Ethan’s torso. Amy climbed onto the other side of the bed, placing each of her hands on Ethan’s arm and shoulder, rubbing her thumbs back and forth lightly. Kathryn sat down at the foot of the bed, gently dropping a hand to Ethan’s knee and leaving it there, looking down at the dazed expression on Ethan’s face.

Mark looked deep into Ethan’s eyes, moving impossibly closer. Ethan breathed out an almost inaudible “ _ Mark, _ ” and it’s all it took for Mark to lean forward and kiss him, letting his eyes slip closed for a moment before he pulled away, resting their foreheads together.

Ethan, feeling at ease and relaxed for the first time in two long days, drifted further into the distant tranquility of sleep growing closer. With the comfort of three of his most trusted friends, he was able to let himself rest.

\--

When he woke, he was alone again. Though he couldn’t ignore how refreshed he felt, and the curtains that had been closed before were drawn open to let the sunlight in. He reached for his phone when he heard notifications, seeing texts from the girls on his screen.

Amy: Hope you’re feeling better :)

Kathryn: You can do this!

Kathryn: Love you :)

Ethan sent a couple of quick responses and sat up, calling out for Mark. The man was there not ten seconds later, smiling and asking if Ethan was okay. Ethan asked how long he’d been asleep, and Mark told him almost a full day.

“A day? I didn’t think people could hibernate,” said Ethan. “Shit, I seriously need to record some stuff. It’s a good thing I only have a million fans.”

“Anyone who doesn’t know you’re talking about subscribers would be thinking you’re arrogant as hell for saying that,” Mark chuckled. 

Ethan stretched and sighed, breaking eye contact. “Can we pretend yesterday didn’t happen?”

Mark helped Ethan out of bed, trying to decide if that would be a good idea or not. He settled for asking why.

“I’m embarrassed about it,” Ethan mumbled. “I just, like, completely shut down. I probably looked crazy.”

Mark shook his head. “No, you didn’t. But I guess we can forget about it if that’s what you want.”

Ethan never got that hopeless again, never devastated enough to repeat what had happened. But his episodes became more frequent over the next month, occurring even because of the littlest things. He would see a mean comment on one of his videos and wake up having an episode. He would forget to take the garbage out and wake up having an episode. He hated it, and he hated himself for it.

Mark was still there to help, but he had his own things to do and couldn’t stay with Ethan for more than a couple of hours each day. He was always busy, which also made Ethan feel like shit for not being productive in the slightest. Mark had to do everything around the house while Ethan stayed in bed moping and crying. That’s what hurt him the most: he wasn’t doing enough. He wasn’t doing enough or being enough and he berated himself every single day for it.

Apparently Mark thought the same thing.

Not right away, of course, because he was still happy to help. But when Ethan started to have two or three episodes each week, and it went on for nearly two months straight, Mark’s patience was growing thin. Ethan knew it would happen, because no matter how much you love someone, you can always be annoyed or frustrated with them. Or just tired of how they’ve been acting.

He didn’t take it personally, but he still hated everything about the situation. Because no matter how much he despised himself for not being better or doing better, he  _ couldn’t do anything _ . And that was the icing on the cake of despair, being completely helpless and unable to change anything.

He was sitting on the couch on his laptop during one of his good days when Mark joined him, his expression melancholy as he sat on the cushions. “I need to talk to you,” he said, staying on the other end of the couch.

“Is everything okay?” asked Ethan, sensing that something was wrong.

“N-no, there’s something I need to--to tell you,” Mark said, stumbling over his words. Why was he nervous?

“Hey, it’s just me,” said Ethan. “You don’t have to be nervous.”

“Well, it’s, uh, it’s about you,” Mark explained. 

“Oh. O-Okay,” Ethan said. “What’s up?”

Mark cleared his throat and shifted around on the couch, forcing himself to make eye contact. “Ethan,” he began, his voice shaking slightly, “I hate to do this, but, well. . .

“I might have to break up with you.”


	5. Thin Ice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! I wanted to post this chapter earlier today but I went hiking so I didn't have the chance. I should be posting chapter 6 today as well but not until later since I have stuff to do.
> 
> I see the end of chapter 4 got a strong reaction, which is what I was going for. I promise things will turn out okay in the end!
> 
> P.S. this chapter is mostly unedited so hopefully it's still good.

“You might have to  _ what? _ ” 

Mark stood his ground. It took a lot to make Ethan angry, so Mark’s concern was making him upset. The hurt he saw in Ethan’s expression made it harder to explain himself. “I love you to pieces,” Mark said, his voice breaking. “But you’ve been in bed for most of the past two months. You haven’t been doing anything; you’ve hardly even spoken to me.”

Ethan was stunned into silence. He should’ve seen this coming. 

“If you keep acting like this, I think I might have to leave you so you’re forced to do things for yourself.” Mark couldn’t get himself to look at Ethan any longer. “I love you, I really do, but I can’t be with you anymore if this is all your life is now.”

Ethan felt lightheaded and dizzy. “S-So are you really breaking up with me?”

“Well, no, not right now,” Mark explained. “I’m going to give you some time to pick yourself up. But if you don’t do it soon, that’s when I’ll end things. I’m sorry.”

“You know,” Ethan began breathily, “I knew this would happen someday, I-I just don’t know if--if I can--”

“You can do this, Eth. I know you can. And if you choose not to, well, that just shows me that you’re not willing to put effort into getting better. I can’t be with someone who can’t help themself.” Mark stood up and left the room, leaving Ethan there to figure out what to do.

He had to talk to someone. He needed advice. Though he was embarrassed about being threatened with a break-up, he wasn’t sure he could make any progress without guidance. And clearly he couldn’t just ask Mark.

He decided to text Kathryn. They were definitely close friends, and he thought she was good at giving advice no matter the situation. 

Ethan: hey, do you have some free time today?

He sat there, staring at his screen for five minutes before she responded.

Kathryn: Yeah, want to hang out?

Ethan: when can i come over? i need someone to talk to

Kathryn: Are you okay? The only plans I have are at 8 tonight. You can come over whenever

Ethan: thanks. be there in half an hour maybe

Kathryn: Cool

When he arrived at her apartment, he knocked on the door and waited, thinking about how he used to live there. She answered the door within a few seconds, greeting him with a smile and letting him inside.

“Do you want some pizza rolls?” she asked him, and he eagerly nodded as he followed her to the kitchen.

“Oh my god, yes,” he said before popping one in his mouth. It was only after putting it in his mouth that he realized they were still hot, and he struggled to chew and swallow it while it was slowly burning his tongue. “Yikes, you should have warned me!” he said.

Kathryn laughed and got them both plates. “You didn’t really give me a chance.”

Ethan rolled his eyes. “Well that’s because they’re pizza rolls and they’re delicious.”

After they had sat down at the table and begun eating, Kathryn asked, “So what do you need to talk about? Is everything okay?”

It was then that he remembered what Mark had told him. He tried to keep his cool as he admitted, “Mark threatened to break up with me if I keep spending my days doing nothing because I’m depressed.”

Kathryn gasped. “What? That’s fucking overkill. I thought he’s always been okay with it.”

Ethan nodded and averted his eyes. “He has. It’s just that, well. . .” He wasn’t sure if he could go on, fearing that she’d lose respect for him.

“What? You can tell me,” she said, placing a hand on his for reassurance.

Ethan sighed and looked down at their hands. “I’ve been having episodes like, really often. Probably a few times a week for--for almost two months. So it’s no wonder Mark is sick of it.” Kathryn tried to say something when her expression changed, but Ethan added, “He said he might have to leave me so I’m forced to do things for myself, since I don’t really do anything for half of my days now. He--he said he can’t be with me if this is my life now.”

“So what do you think you’ll do then?” Kathryn asked.

“I don’t know,” Ethan answered honestly. “I can’t just sit back and wait for him to end the relationship, but I don’t know how to get better. That’s kind of why I’m here. I need advice.”

Kathryn thought for a moment. “He wants you to be up and doing stuff more even though you’ve been really depressed?” Ethan slowly nodded. “Does he not understand--”

“He’s been so understanding for months,” Ethan interrupted. “If you were him, wouldn’t you start to get a little impatient eventually?”

“Okay, I guess that makes sense.”

“How am I supposed to fix this?” Ethan asked, and Kathryn  _ had  _ to come up with something because it would be impossible to betray those pleading eyes.

“Honestly, I think Mark wants you to prove you don’t rely on him,” she said. “It’s not just wanting you to get better, it’s wanting you to be more independent. I think he feels responsible for you, and it’s a lot of pressure.”

Ethan replied, “I don’t think I have the strength to do much. Unless I’m having a good day, everything I do feels like a chore.”

“Maybe I can help you at first so you’re not completely on your own,” Kathryn offered. “Just for a few days, anyway. That way you can get back on your feet.”

“Thank you,” said Ethan with the utmost sincerity.

Kathryn smiled and came up with a plan in her head. “Of course, it’s no problem. We can still hang out for a bit, but when you go home you should try to get something done, just be productive. For the next few days, you have to try extra hard to stay active.”

“Don’t you think he’s kind of manipulating me into getting better?” Ethan proposed.

Kathryn laughed and shook her head. “No he isn’t. You know he wouldn’t do that on purpose.”

“Hey, I never said he’s doing it on purpose,” Ethan pointed out. “Wanna play Mario Kart while I’m here?”

“Awesome idea.”

\--

As soon as Ethan got back home, he went up to his recording studio and filmed for a while since he hadn’t uploaded videos in almost a month. He tried to seem energetic and enthusiastic, but there was no denying how difficult it was. He was interrupted halfway through a game when Mark knocked on the door, and a brief wave of anxiety washed over him before he cleared his throat and said, “Come in.”

Mark opened the door and glanced back and forth between Ethan and his recording equipment. “Oh, I didn’t realize you were filming,” he said. “How’s it going?”

“Pretty good,” said Ethan, trying to appear as cool as a cucumber. “I’ve already gotten a video and a half’s worth of content.”

“That’s great! Um, I was just wondering what you might want for dinner. It’s getting close to 7,” Mark said.

“Hm, I don’t know. You should surprise me,” Ethan suggested. “Maybe sauté a dozen onions.”

Mark chuckled and said, “I’m never doing that again.” He turned to leave, but before he walked out he whipped back to face Ethan so he could add, “Hey, I’m sorry about what I said earlier. I know I’m being harsh on you, but I only want you to get better.”

Ethan held a hand out in a stopping motion to get Mark to be quiet. “You don’t have to apologize. I get it. I want to get better too. If you think threatening to end our relationship will help me do that, then that’s fine.” Mark tried to say something, but Ethan turned back to his computer screen and stopped listening. “I mean it. It’s okay. I need to finish recording here, so can you leave?”

Mark, who was beginning to regret even entertaining the idea of breaking up, quietly said, “Okay.” He left the room, and Ethan let out a sigh of relief.

He whipped out his phone and called Kathryn, wanting to describe to her what had just happened so she could tell him if he said the right things or not. He was proud of himself for speaking up and pretending to be okay when he honestly felt as though he was dying inside.

When he and Mark ate dinner together, their conversation was normal and lighthearted. They even watched a movie together after, huddling up together under a blanket to protect themselves from the chill in the air.

As they were getting ready for bed, Mark brought up the Forbidden Topic again. “I still feel awful for what I said today,” he admitted, and  _ god, _ Ethan was tired of hearing about it. Though he kept his cool last time, he snapped this time. Maybe it was because he was tired.

“Fuck, Mark, you  _ should  _ feel that way,” he said, the irritation he felt evident. “I know you see me as your responsibility or whatever, but the fact that you can talk about breaking up with me when I’m already borderline suicidal for half of the week,  _ that _ makes you an asshole. You clearly don’t understand how depression works, and don’t try to tell me otherwise, because being around someone who deals with it is a whole lot different than dealing with it firsthand, okay?”

Mark was stunned, not sure how to respond but feeling the need to diffuse the situation. “Okay, look, maybe you should calm down a bit. I don’t want to start an argument, babe.”

“ _Don’t_ call me that when I’m angry,” Ethan ordered, and now Mark was appalled. “I can’t believe you’re going to stand there and tell me to calm down. You’re the one who dropped a fucking bomb on me earlier. If we actually did break up, you know that neither of us would benefit from it, right? _We_ _fucking love each other._ So fuck you for basically giving me an ultimatum. That’s not how mental illnesses are fixed, Mark.” Ethan stormed out of the room, deciding he’d go to bed in the guest room instead. Mark wanted to talk to him and sort things out, but he had no idea how to proceed. Ethan would likely push him away, because Ethan wasn’t one to tell someone to go away even though he secretly wants their attention. So Mark and Ethan slept in separate beds and in separate rooms that night, both having a hard time sleeping without the other.

Ethan started to feel like their relationship was on thin ice, at risk of breaking if pressure was put on the wrong area. It’s almost funny how something that seems so definite can go awry so fast.

\--

As expected, Ethan woke up with minimal energy and heavy bones, feeling like he wouldn’t have the strength to get up even if he wanted to. But he  _ had  _ to, not only because it was his only shot at saving his relationship with Mark, but because he couldn’t waste another day of his life. He reached for his phone and called Kathryn, and she did her best to help him.

“You can do this, you’re just overthinking it,” she told him. “You have to believe you can get out of bed. And then all you have to do is move.”

“Hey wait, I have a dumb idea,” Ethan said. He set his phone down and rolled over to the edge of the bed, and when he felt himself start to fall he put his quick reflexes to use and caught himself just in time. It proved to be an effective method, because now he was standing and  _ not  _ on or in the bed. 

He picked his phone back up with a giggle and said, “Alright, I’m up now. Thanks for the pep talk.”

That morning, he had breakfast, showered, and did a few chores around the house: laundry, dishes, the stuff Mark had been doing each time Ethan was stuck in bed all day. He noticed that as soon as he started doing something productive, it was fairly easy to keep going. Not unlike when you say you’ll sleep for an extra five minutes, and the next thing you know it’s been thirty.

Mark had tried to praise him for it, but Ethan had replied, “I should’ve been doing this stuff for months. I don’t deserve a thank-you for doing what I’m supposed to.”

Mark wanted to tell him that  _ yes, yes you do deserve a thank-you,  _ because of the fact that  _ you’re struggling with severe depression and I’m only pushing you past your limits and it’s probably not healthy,  _ but he had given up on trying to say anything that Ethan didn’t agree with (or pretended not to agree with anyway). Ethan had been mouthy lately. Not in bad taste, but it almost seemed like he was starting to overreact.

Mark tried not to think about it, because he didn’t want to have any reason to dislike his boyfriend.

Something had to be done soon to fix things, because when they got in bed the next night to go to sleep Ethan scooted away from Mark and faced in the other direction, not saying a word. “Don’t you want to cuddle?” Mark asked, not caring about the silliness of the sentence, because, well, it was pretty damn serious in the situation they had stuck themselves into. 

“Not really,” Ethan responded, getting comfortable and keeping his back turned to Mark. Mark wasn’t sure what unspoken fight they had gotten into, but he hated it.

He turned the light off and settled in under the covers, a little hurt if he was being honest. “I love you,” he said to Ethan.

Ethan didn’t say it back.

\--

Over the next few days, they tiptoed around each other, still having conversations every now and then but finding it difficult to laugh at each other’s jokes or even actually spend a considerable amount of time together. Ethan called Kathryn one night upset and trying not to cry, thinking that Mark’s ultimatum may have broken something in their relationship that couldn’t be mended. He had to hang up on her when Mark came into the room so they could sleep, and Ethan uttered a hushed goodbye before ending the call and wiping the tears from his eyes. They hadn’t kissed each other in days, and they had hardly touched each other too.

What could be done? Each of them was inching away from the other, neither of them actually seeking each other out or suggesting spending time together. They couldn’t stand being apart, but they were afraid of what might be said or done when they were together. So they kept their distance, finding it hard to even coexist. Neither of them tried to initiate conversations anymore either.

Until Mark did.

It had been a long week of avoiding each other, masking their hurt and crying silently at night. Ethan isolated himself on the couch, wearing his most comfortable clothing and trying to stay calm and relaxed so he wouldn’t think about returning to old habits: wanting to hurt himself. Mark entered the room and slowly, cautiously moved to sit on the other end of the couch, watching Ethan’s eyes widen in surprise. What the hell was Mark doing?

His tongue darted out to wet his lips before he spoke, “Ethan, we need to talk.”


	6. Healing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, here's the last chapter! This has been a lot of fun to write even though most of it has been sad. I really like this story I've created (including the original), and I'm glad you guys have liked it too!
> 
> I'm almost disappointed to be done writing all of this already. I hope this "bonus fic" has been enjoyable to read, and a little different from the first one!

_ Ethan sat down in his recording chair, testing his mic and audio before turning the camera on. He cleared his throat and enthusiastically began, “What is up my cranky--god, I can’t start with that. It’s not that kind of video.”  _

_ He shifted in his seat and tried again. “Hey guys. I wanted to make a video discussing mental health and mental illness, not only because it’s more common than we think, but because--fuck, this is difficult.” _

_ He shook his head, realizing how hard it would be to make the video. “Hey guys,” he started over. “I wanted to make a video discussing mental health and mental illness. Not only is it more common than we think, but I’ve also dealt with it firsthand.” _

\--

“We need to talk,” Mark had said, his tone serious and demanding as he stared at Ethan with piercing eyes. It was a miracle he somehow didn’t look intimidating.

“About what?” Ethan responded while trying to act aloof.

“Come on, you know what this is about,” Mark replied, keeping his tone steady.

Ethan gave up the distant act, turning to face Mark and deciding that yes, they did need to talk. “Okay,” he said simply. “Go ahead then.”

\--

_ “I haven’t mentioned it before, because it’s my own personal struggle and not something I want to share with a million people. Those of you who are depressed or who used to be depressed, I’m sure you understand my point of view. I also didn’t want any of you to see me differently because of what I’ve been through. I’m still me.” _

_ He paused to look at the notes he had written down for the video, doing his best to stay calm while speaking. “Some of you who have also had mental illness have probably had to convince yourself of the same thing. You’re still you no matter what mental illness can make you think or do. Mental illness actually becomes a part of you, a part of who you are. And that can be scary. What you have to realize through it all is that you’re all so much stronger than you think you are. Anyone who has dealt with these things and continued fighting each day has so much willpower; so much mental strength. I’m proud of all of you. _

_ “One of the most helpful things you can do is try your hardest to be positive. Seeing the silver linings through all of the dark thoughts and feelings you have can keep you going.” He paused to take a deep breath and remind himself that he could do this. “Sometimes it’s hard to continue, but you have to keep fighting. If you don’t want to do it for yourself, do it for me. I may not know all of you personally, but I love every single one of you guys.” _

\--

“I never should have given you an ultimatum,” Mark began, and Ethan nodded. “And because I did, it’s my fault our relationship turned into this.”

“Don’t completely blame yourself,” Ethan said, feeling just as guilty as Mark. “We both caused this. I mean, I kind of went dead for two months. That’s pretty shitty.”

“But you had a good excuse for that,” Mark pointed out. “I shouldn’t have acted like you being depressed and having episodes wasn’t acceptable.”

Ethan gave Mark a puzzled look. “No, the more I’ve been thinking about it, you were right before. Not about threatening to break up with me, but I understand where you came from. If I were you, I would’ve given up on me a while ago.”

“Don’t say that, Eth. And I’m not going to give up on you, ever. Even if we don’t end up together, that doesn’t mean I’ve given up on you.”

“So is that still an option?” asked Ethan. “Breaking up?”

\--

_ Ethan averted his eyes from the camera and thought about what to say next. Maybe he could go a little off script. “I will say that making this video is difficult for me. I think I’ll be glad I did it when it’s done, but right now I’m dealing with a lot of anxiety. _

_ “I don’t know how many of you guys have dealt with anxiety before. I don’t mean feeling nervous over having to give a speech at school or something, I mean nearly freaking out at having to do the littlest things. Like, you know when you’re at a restaurant and you go to order your food, and you have to rehearse it in your head a million times so you don’t mess it up and embarrass yourself? _

_ “That’s probably not the best example.” He chuckled, a little more at ease. Laughter really is the best medicine. “Anyway, anxiety and depression combined are the reasons I haven’t been able to record as many videos lately. It kills me sometimes, because I want to get more content out there for those of you who actually enjoy it. I also want to apologize if I haven’t seemed as enthusiastic in my recent videos either. I hope now that you know part of the reason you can understand.” _

_ He tried to smile a bit, silently letting the viewers know he’s okay. “There’s another reason too, and I’ve been reluctant to give the information only because it includes another person, and I’m not sure how they’d feel about me saying something about it to all of you. But I’ve been keeping this from the world for a while, so I think I’m finally ready to talk about it. Hopefully he won’t mind. _

_ “By ‘he’ I mean Mark. I’m sure all of you know he and I have been close friends for a while. The only thing is, we’re a little more than that.” _

\--

Mark shifted uncomfortably and said, “I don’t want it to be an option.”

“But it could still happen,” Ethan guessed.

“It doesn’t have to,” said Mark. “I still love you.”

“If you still love me, why haven’t we been spending time together? Why haven’t we been talking to each other?”

“Hey, you’re the one who stopped saying it back when I would say I love you.”

“Because I’m  _ upset  _ with you, Mark. I’ve been better this past week, you know that. You’ve seen me  _ doing  _ things and being productive and it just--it frustrates me that you don’t seem to care. Like your opinion hasn’t changed.”

“My opinion  _ never _ changed,” Mark admitted. “Sure, it may have started to bother me that you had so many episodes, but I know it bothered you too. I’ve never  _ wanted  _ to break up with you. I thought maybe bringing it up would motivate you more. And if I have to do it still, I will.”

“Yeah, and it would be really fucking shitty for you to do that. Even if you had good intentions.”

Mark sighed. “I know. Let’s just get back to the point. I don’t want to start an argument.”

Ethan rolled his eyes and immediately regretted it, not wanting to be rude. “Right. So have I proved anything to you in the last week? Do you think we can fix things?”

\--

_ “Mark and I have been together for a long time, and we never told the internet about it for multiple reasons. Yes, I mean that we’re dating. It’s hard to say that to you guys because we all know some of you are hardcore shippers, and we don’t want anyone going crazy about the news.” He laughed then, attempting to hide the nervousness that he felt inside. _

_ “Mark has helped me through a lot of the issues I’ve been dealing with. He’s always been there for me, and I feel like I don’t thank him enough for it. _

_ “Our relationship isn’t perfect, though, contrary to what a lot of you may write in fanfictions.” He wondered if he’d regret saying that later. “We’re sort of going through a rough patch right now, and I’m letting you all know because it’s the other main reason I’ve been falling behind on content. I’m not going to give any details because my relationship with Mark is our business, and it’s a part of our personal lives. I hope that makes sense.” _

\--

“You  _ have  _ been better. I know that,” Mark confirmed. “But I’m still worried that this thing that happened to you could happen again. Unless you’re determined enough and dead set on keeping yourself away from shutting down like that again, a little part of me will think it’s sort of a waste of time to continue this.”

“Okay, but I thought you said you’ve never actually wanted to break up with me.”

“I don’t, but if you get back into that dark place. . .”

Ethan scoffed. “Okay, just stop talking. Be honest with me: are you willing to work on our relationship?”

\--

_ He decided not to mention too many other things, leaving out the troubles of self-harm and eating disorders, because, well, he didn’t want his fans to know  _ everything.  _ “I just want all of you to know before I end this video that whatever you’re going through and whatever you’re fighting through, it  _ will  _ get better. As long as you work hard and do your best to stay afloat, it will get better. I promise.” _

_ He glanced down at his notes again and made sure he had said everything he wanted to say. “I think that’s all I really wanted to talk about in this video. I know this one is a little different from what I usually record for you guys, but I think it’s important to talk about this sort of thing. I want to be here for you and let you know that you’re not alone. Hopefully I can help at least someone. _

_ “Anyway, I’m going to end this one here. Thank you guys so much for watching. Love you all, bye.” _

_ He stopped recording and took a few deep breaths, telling himself that he had just done something good. He tried not to worry about people possibly judging him when he uploaded that video, or people who didn’t understand possibly leaving negative comments. _

_ He reminded himself that this wasn’t about him. It was to help others. And it felt really nice to be doing something selfless for once. _

\--

“ _ Yes, _ ” Mark answered sincerely. “Of course I am. I’m sorry about what’s happened to us recently. I love you.”

Mark started to tear up, causing Ethan to tear up as well. “Fuck, I’m sorry too. And I love you too. I think--I think we both have some stuff we need to work on so we can fix this.”

“About that,” Mark started, “I need to know for sure this is going to work.”

“How?” asked Ethan.

They locked eyes then, and Mark said, “I need you to try, Ethan. I need you to show me you still care enough to make it work. Please.”

They stared at each other for almost half a minute before Ethan took a deep breath and moved. Scooted closer to Mark on the couch and slowly but surely wrapped his arms around him. Mark reciprocated the emotional embrace, realizing that it’s the first physical contact he’d had with Ethan in weeks.  _ Weeks.  _

Ethan let his head fall against Mark’s shoulder, a few tears spilling out of his eyes. Mark cried too, deciding it was okay to be emotional during a time like this. They held each other tighter, mumbling apologies and words of affection.

It’s only a hug. And yet somehow, that’s enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what did you think? Feel free to leave a comment!
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading!


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